


Choices

by cuphugaddict



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Domestic Fluff, Drarry, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Fluff, Hippogriffs, M/M, Memory Loss, Not Beta Read, Peacocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 13:01:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16516967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuphugaddict/pseuds/cuphugaddict
Summary: What if, inestead of deciding to go back to the Forbidden Forrest, Harry would have boarded a train at King's Cross?





	Choices

 

Harry stood on the white platform – looking left and right. What had Dumbledore said again? He could simply board a train; a train that would take him _on_. But on to where?

The Gryffindor sighed. Did it even matter where said hypothetical train would be taking him? Away from here, away from the world he knew. He thought for a moment about Ron and Hermione, about Neville, Luna and Ginny … Harry shook his head. He would not think about them now. For once in his life – his _life_? After-life? – he would be thinking about himself. Despite the inner Gryffindor telling him that he was being a coward from running away from his responsibilities, he made the decision. He would be boarding a train; if one ever arrived.

He had _died_ for them, for crying out loud. For seventeen years he had been The Chosen One, about ten of them being treated like a slave. In Hogwarts, he had been happy, truly happy, but he either had to run away from the hoard of usual fans or fight for his life. He had gone to the Forbidden Forrest, had faced Voldemort and had let that madman kill him. He deserved a bloody break.

Encouraged by his inner musings, he took a secure step towards the edge of the platform he stood on – and an immediate step back. As glad as Harry had been to see Dumbledore once more, he still hadn’t forgotten what he had seen what in fact had to be only minutes ago, but seemed like a lifetime to him then: Dumbledore had not saved his parents. He had knowingly kept vital information from Harry, only to push him around how it pleased the old man. He had counted on Harry to walk into his own death just to save the wizarding world. Which he had done. Like all the other things that Dumbledore had asked of him.

Harry grinned quietly and stepped further back from the edge of the platform and walked towards the crossovers to the other platforms. Jogging up the stairs his smile widened. For once, he would do something completely unexpected of him. And it felt good. Skipping the first stairs downwards, he kept on heading straight ahead. He stopped at the second stairs down, but shook his head. Third time was the charm, as the Muggle saying went, right? So he took a few more steps forward, once again marvelling at how empty and clean everything was, and then skipped the third flight of stairs he passed down. As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, a train that looked suspiciously like the Hogwarts Express – except for the according words at the engine – arrived there. Harry smiled to himself, opened the first door he could reach and stepped onto the train … And immediately felt the familiar tug at the bottom of his stomach. _Great, a portkey…_

 

Harry fell down in a patch of the greenest grass he had probably ever seen. Getting up from where he had dropped down – not without cursing the unpredictability of portkeys – he took a look around and saw that he was standing close to a sort of cliff. Taking a few steps towards the cliff, he came to look down on the wild and unruly sea. _Looks like Cornwall_ , Harry thought, without ever having been there. Strong wind was doing his best to knock him off his feet as Harry kept turning around again and spotted a rather impressive looking house in some sort of distance. To be completely honest, Harry thought that it did look a bit out of place. Not to get him wrong there, it was beautiful; spacious, white with a small tower on the left side. Next to it, there were a few more, smaller buildings that looked suspiciously like stables. Harry just thought that in these surroundings, a cottage would be more fitting than this … manor. Also, it was the only thing that Harry could spot.

_Looks like I’ll be going there then …_

With a curious spring in his step, Harry started walking towards the enormous house. When he came into closer view, he noticed three horses on a paddock behind one of what Harry had rightfully assumed to be stables. One was white, the other one brown with white specks and the third one was black. Fixing his eyes on the horses while getting closer to the house, he almost tripped over something on the ground. Having a closer look at the thing that started to cause a huge fuss, Harry realized that it was a peacock. A peacock! Who on earth held peacocks as pets?

“Harry!” The Gryffindor’s head whipped around to the open front door of the manor where the voice came from. Of course, Harry could be mistaken, but that voice had suspiciously sounded like Malfoy’s. It had that particular drawl to it. But why in the name of all wizardingkind did he call him Harry?

“If that is you assaulting my poor babies again I swear to Salazar that I’ll hex you into next week!” _Malfoy, definitely Malfoy_ , Harry thought, although he had to say that he sounded slightly different. The guy – the _man_ that came out of their house definitely looked like Malfoy, only … older. Much older. “And don’t you even dare suggesting that they started it. I know my lovelies and they would never do such a terribly rude thing …” The blonde grinned at him, although Harry had to say there wasn’t as much malice and mock in it as there had been when there were in school. Apparently, the confusion showed on his face because Malfoy stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow. “Harry? Something wrong?”

The dark-haired wizard opened and closed his mouth a few times but nothing came out. Well, nothing except, “Why in the name of Merlin’s sock drawer are you calling me Harry Malfoy?!”

The blonde had the nerve to smirk at him, “No roleplay while the kids are at home. House rule.”

“WHAT?!” Harry exclaimed, horror sounding in his voice and doubtlessly showing on his face as Malfoy did not even deem the peacock to Harry’s feet that started flailing and flapping his wings a second glance. The Slytherin took a careful step closer, “Harry? … Is something the matter?”

“IS SOMETHING THE MATTER?!” Harry exclaimed, losing it completely, “You are calling me Harry, why are you calling me Harry? Why am I even here? Where is here? And, most importantly, why are you so …” the Gryffindor waved his arms, “… old?” Even though the man in front of him was clearly Draco Malfoy, he had changed quite a bit since their days at Hogwarts: His hair was longer, but still perfectly in place, his skin was slightly darker than back then, he had a hint of a stubble on his cheeks and – probably most disturbing about it all – he wore a pair of black Muggle jeans and a grey T-Shirt. Over his contemplations, the dark-haired wizard didn’t even realize that the other man had said _kids_.

Harry witnessed Malfoy do a double take and compose himself. “Okay … Harry. Please tell me that you didn’t drink one of Luna’s tonics again.”

As the initial shock wore off, Harry realized two things. Firstly, it seemed completely normal to Malfoy that he was here. Weirdly enough, the blonde seemed to expect him to be. Secondly, the mentioning of Luna meant that he apparently was still friends with Luna. Which made sense, he supposed. Another thing that he noticed was that Malfoy was unconsciously offering him an out of his situation. So he simply smiled insecurely and as dorkily as possible.

What he didn’t expect was Malfoy sigh in defeat and run a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair – and messing it up beyond repair in the process. “Merlin’s beard, that witch is as much of a menace as she is a genius!” the Slytherin cursed before he fixed his gaze onto Harry again. “What is the last thing you remember?”

Harry gulped, “Er … The war. I was … I was going to the Forbidden Forrest and Voldemort killed me …”

Malfoy nodded, “Okay. Okay, that’s good …”

“Excuse me?!” Harry exclaimed but Draco only waved his hand, “Sorry! Just … last time, you still thought you were in our fifth year and I was the sole cause for all evil in the world.”

“The last time?!” Harry asked indignantly, “This happened before?”

Malfoy put on his trademark-smirk again, “Incorrigible little prat you are. Never learning your lesson.”

“Shut up Malfoy”, Harry said more out of reflex than of pure malice.

Apparently, the familiar insult gave the blonde some sort of normalcy back. He sighed, “Alright. Harry, listen to me – and believe me, it will be a bit much: We are in Cornwall.” Harry nodded. As he had suspected. Malfoy continued, “This is our house. We’ve been living here for almost ten years.”

 _What in the name of all the witches and wizards …_ Harry shook his head, “We’re living together?”

Just as Malfoy opened his mouth to answer him, a small girl came hopping out of one of the stables, smiling brightly at him. “Daddy!” she exclaimed and ran over to plaster herself against his leg. For a moment, Harry stood like he was under a Petrificus Totalus, simply staring down at the girl with the dark blonde hair.

Malfoy cleared his throat, “Delia, darling. Daddy is … uhm … Do you remember when you were still rather small we had to explain everything to Daddy? Who we were?”

The blonde girl nodded which had her curls bouncing up and down, “Yep. Carlyle had said that Daddy didn’t remember us. Because a potion of Aunt Luna. Did it happen again?!” She seemed positively thrilled at the prospect.

Malfoy nodded, “I’m afraid so. And it’s _Because of_ , darling.”

Completely oblivious to the correction of grammar, the small girl beamed up at Harry. “Hello Daddy. I’m Dandelion, but you always call me Delia. I’m your daughter. Oh, and I’m almost six.” The girl – his girl apparently – went back to hugging his leg and she placed a kiss on his knee.

After a few moments where the Gryffindor was busy regaining his composure, he knelt down carefully. “He-Hello Dandel – Delia. I … I am so, so terribly sorry I can’t remember you.”

 _And really_ , Harry thought, _how horrible must it be if a parent didn’t recognize his own kid?_

Delia, however, didn’t seem to mind one bit. She simply gave Harry a kiss on his lips and hugged him tightly. Awkwardly, Harry placed one hand on the back of the flowery dress the girl wore, and hugged her back. Malfoy looked down at them with a quite lost look on himself. “It’s alright Daddy!” Delia said and pulled away again, “You surely still know how to teach me to ride Feodor, so everything is fine.” She beamed up at Harry.

Malfoy cleared his throat, “Delia, honey. Harry doesn’t know who Feodor is…” Was Harry imagining it or did his voice break at the end of the sentence? “And you are not riding him. Not yet at least!” Ah, back to normal, Harry realized with a grin.

Delia slapped her forehead as if she had forgotten something really important, “Sorry Daddy. Feodor is our Hippogriff.”

Harry eyes surely bulged out of his head with surprise by then, “We have a Hippogriff?! That’s brilliant!”

He witnessed Malfoy rolling his eyes, “Yes, brilliant indeed. It would be even more brilliant if he wouldn’t try to kill my peacocks all the time …”

Delia sighed in exasperation, “But they are his natural food, Papa. Daddy and I are training him to not eat your peacocks, right Daddy?”

Harry’s brain, however, had stopped noticing anything beyond the word _Papa_. _What in the …?_

Apparently, Malfoy decided to take pity on him – And wasn’t that the news of the day? – and ushered the small girl inside the house, telling her to play with her set of enchanted animals. Meanwhile, Harry had gotten up from the floor and managed to not get a heart attack. Which was quite something, he dared to say.

Once Malfoy turned back to him, the Gryffindor pointed towards the inside of the house. “This is my daughter?”

Malfoy bit his lip and closed his eyes as if he needed to prepare himself for another wizarding war. “She is _our_ daughter, Harry.”

“Wha …?!” The dark-haired wizard realized that he sounded everything but eloquent, but in that particular moment, he could not care less. _Their_ daughter? Harry quickly shook his head, “Okay Mal- Draco”, revelation showed on the blonde’s face, “Why in Merlin’s name have _we_ adopted a kid?” _Maybe she is an orphan of the war_ , Harry mused.

Draco took a deep breath, which told Harry everything he needed to know. He simply blurted, “No! Malfoy, you cannot tell me that she is _ours_ … Biologically. No bloody way!”

The blonde shrugged, “We’re wizards.”

“That. Is not …” Harry suddenly felt lightheaded and everything started spinning. Just before he was certain he would hit the ground, two strong arms caught him and carried him over to a garden fauteuil that stood next to the front door of the house.

The hand rubbing soothing circles onto his back brought Harry back to reality – as did the kind voice murmuring _It will be okay_ and _Just breathe_ which was disturbing enough.

Once Harry saw straight again, he thanked Draco for not letting him crash to the ground. The blonde only smiled insecurely at him, “Better now?”

Truthfully, Harry shook his head, “No, not really. Please excuse me but … WHAT?!”

Draco grinned, “We’re married, Harry. Have been for twelve years.” As if on cue, the Gryffindor’s gaze flew down onto his right hand. And truly, he found a ring on the according finger. A golden lion that was fixed by a silver snake onto his ring finger. The snake continuously moved around said finger, sometimes pinching the lion in the process, sometimes snuggling close to him. Harry’s eyes wandered over to see the exact same ring on Draco’s finger. After the blonde – his _husband_ – had thankfully given him a few moments of silence to digest everything, Harry chuckled. “You’re bugging me …”

“What makes you think that?” Draco asked.

Harry shook his head, “There’s no way I’d let you choose these horribly cheesy rings for us.”

Draco snorted, “Always nice to know what you truly think about my work, you imbecile.”

“Wait”, Harry looked up at Draco in disbelieve, “You _made_ these?”

Draco proudly crooked his head, “You happen to be married to the wizarding world’s most exclusive designer of jewellery. Not that you deserve that, as you have just shown …”

Draco Malfoy a jewellery designer. Somehow that fitted. However, it brought another idea to Harry’s mind: “What do I do? Am I … an auror?” To be completely honest with himself, the Gryffindor had been evaluating and re-evaluating that decision constantly during their Horcrux Hunt. As sure as he had been during fourth year that he wanted to become an auror, by then he really hadn’t been anymore.

Draco grinned fondly and shook his head, “No, you’re a teacher. At Hogwarts. And before you ask, no, you’re not teaching Defense.”

Harry waited patiently, but as no further elaborations came, he rolled his eyes, “What _do_ I teach then?”

Draco smirked, “As if the Hippogriff wasn’t cue enough …”

“I am teaching Care of Magical Creatures?” Harry asked indignantly. Draco just nodded, “What happened to Hagrid?”

“He’s in France”, the blonde sitting beside him elaborated, “Finally managed to make a move on Madame Maxim. You took over once he left.”

“Huh” was all Harry could say. Just as he had arranged himself with the idea that he was teaching at the school he had just recently fought for, another, probably more pressing thought entered his mind: “Since when do I know that I’m gay?”

Truth to be told, Harry hadn’t even spared a second thought to his sexual orientation. Sure enough, that thing with Cho had been awkward beyond explanation, but what happened with Ginny? He had liked her, he had really liked her …

Draco smirked, “I’m the gay one. You’re bisexual.”

“Right …” Harry said and nodded more to himself than to Draco. He was sure he sounded like Ron. Ron!!! “How are Ron and Hermione? And Ginny … I thought … They’re not dead, are they?” Harry asked as an afterthought.

Draco shook his head, “No, they’re not. Hermione and Ronald are married and have two kids of their own. In fact … Oh Merlin …” Draco shook his head and a dreadful feeling crept up Harry’s spine. “What …? Spit it out Malfoy.”

Another sigh and defeated look on the Slytherin’s part later, Draco looked up at Harry: “We also have two kids. Carlyle Severus is our first-born and Dandelion Morgana is our second. Carlyle is currently visiting Rose, Hermione and Ron’s first born.”

Harry shook his head and after a while he started chuckling, “Morgana? Really?!”

Draco grinned for a split second and weirdly enough, this gave Harry the impression that they had had that conversion before: “Seriously?! After I let you get away with Dande _lion_? Also: Morgana is the name of my grandmother and, even though this might shock your pure Gryffindor heart, you like her.”

Harry grinned at their familiar banter and ventured towards that particular safety net: “I don’t believe a single thing you say. I guess you’ll have to show me. After all, who would trust a Slytherin?!”

To Harry’s utter shock, the blonde beside him burst into whole-hearted laughter and nodded, “We have a pensive, don’t worry.”

The Gryffindor chuckled as well, revelling in the moment that held some familiarity for him – even though he could not put his finger on why exactly it did. “Seriously though, why did we name our daughter Dandelion? Seems a bit … I don’t know, Lovegood.”

Draco nodded and smiled quietly, “It really does, doesn’t it. It’s sort of a tribute, if you will, to our mothers.”

Realization dawned on Harry, “Lily and Narcissa.” The blonde beside him gave him only a smile in response and Harry nodded. It seemed like something he would do. “I still can’t believe that you let me call her something with lion in it …”

An elegant eyebrow was raised, “Oh, believe me, there were negotiations. Extended ones. And it took some time and effort of you to … _convince_ me.”

Harry closed his eyes at the emphasis, “Right. Am I right in assuming that I do not want to know … yet about these negotiations?”

“Smart one, aren’t you”, Draco grinned, “I knew I married you for a reason.” The awkward silence that followed was broken again by Draco, “You know, not to pressure you, but if you want to know about our relationship beyond our kids and the PG-stuff about how we met … Let’s just say, we have a second pensive.”

“Right”, Harry said, not sure if he was disgusted or intrigued by the prospect. Suddenly, Harry realized that he had no idea how old their son was: “Merlin! How old is … Carlyle?”

Draco rolled his eyes, this time though it seemed as if the movement was directed at himself, “Of course, sorry Harry. Carlyle is fourteen. … And, brace yourself: He is in Hufflepuff.”

“WHAT?! No way, you’re joking!” Harry exclaimed in horror. Their son? In Hufflepuff? “This would not be happening with me as a teacher there, surely. _I_ would not let this happen …”

The way Draco – his husband – looked at him though told him that somehow, he had apparently let this happen. “I can show you pictures if you don’t believe me.”

“Merlin’s beard!” Harry exclaimed, “And here I was thinking that the weirdest thing that happened to me today was learning that I had biological kids with Draco Malfoy.”

 _And Voldemort killing me …_ Harry thought privately. Still, their son in Hufflepuff was more of a dropped bomb.

“Potter-Malfoy”, Draco corrected and Harry raised an eyebrow. “Well, your name was the obvious choice. Eternal glory and the like, you get the idea …” Draco smirked but Harry quickly realized that he was only mocking him. “How very Slytherin of you …” The blonde grinned, “I was never one to turn down advantages, was I?” Harry smiled and shook his head. That, he truly wasn’t.

“I’m sure you would like to know though that our son is Hufflepuff’s seeker and the house has never been more successful at Quidditch than in the present.”

“Thank Godric for small mercies”, Harry joked and Draco grinned.

 

Thankfully, the blonde gave Harry a few moments to adjust to … well everything. Then again, apparently this had happened before so he probably had some practice. Quite methodically, as Hermione had time and time again told him to, he tried to recapitulate everything new: He had gone straight from dying in the Forbidden Forrest into the future. But how far? He needed to ask. He was a teacher in Hogwarts, Care for Magical Creatures. He liked that, he really liked that. Then there was the marriage to someone he had never even deemed to keep in contact with after school which was … interesting. He needed to know how this had happened exactly. They lived together in Cornwall, with two kids. Their two kids. Carlyle and Dandelion. And a hippogriff. And peacocks. And horses. Merlin help him!

As a thought crossed his mind, he raised one finger and only then realized that Draco had clung tight to this very hand. “Who carried them?”

Pale eyebrows raised, “Come again?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Our kids, who carried them?”

Now Draco rolled his eyes, “Don’t get your hegemonic masculinity-knickers in a twist, I did.”

Now Harry raised his eyebrows, completely taken aback, “ _Really?!_ ” Somehow Harry could not picture Draco sodding Malfoy willingly carry each of their children – and Godric’s left buttock, that still sounded way too weird – for nine months.

Draco’s lip curled mockingly, “What? You don’t believe me? As I have mentioned, we have a pensive …”

“Two pensives …” Harry shot back and grinned himself. “What I was really thinking was how on earth you got the idea of me sticking to hegemonic masculinity concepts … being married to you and all.”

Draco waved his hand, “Clearly my impeccable influence …”

Harry snorted, “Clearly …” Draco hit him in the shoulder but smiled himself. “How old am I … are we?” Harry grimaced.

“Thirty-four”, Draco answered and Harry did a double take. Thirty-four. Than meant that they had gotten Carlyle at about twenty. What?! That meant that they actually came together quite quickly after … well, after everything. On the one hand, he was outraged that somehow, sixteen years of his life were missing. On the other hand though he was quite happy that he didn’t have to deal with the aftermath of the war. He supposed that it was better like that. To turn up … settled. Even if it doubtlessly was settled weirdly.

“A mirror!” Harry suddenly exclaimed and Draco only frowned at him. “I don’t even know what I look like …” the Gryffindor explained in shock.

Draco however chuckled and nodded, “Scruffy and unkempt as usual, but you are right of course. Come on …” The blonde stood up and pulled Harry with him – by their still joined hands, as Harry realized with a bit of horror – into the house. Their house. Their house that was actually quite nicely furnished. Cosy. Somehow, and Harry felt ridiculous the second he had finished that thought, he had expected it to look like Malfoy Manor. But then again, he could not stand to live a single week in that cold and grey ghost-castle. And he had been living here for ten years, Draco had said, so it really was only fair that he had something to contribute to their house as well. Although, as he looked at their living area that was held in warm colours he could see Draco’s designer input quite clearly. It all … matched perfectly. If it had only been him furnishing the house, nothing would be matching, he was sure of it.

Draco however pulled him further into the house and into their downstairs bathroom, right in front of a huge mirror. Who Harry saw was not him. Well, that guy in there looked like him but …

He took a step closer examining his face. His skin was still olive, his eyes were still green, he still wore glasses. But that was about it with the resemblances. He too had a stubble, his hair was about shoulder-length, he had some crinkles on his forehead, light crowfeet and he had a scar on the left side of his face. Touching both of his cheeks, he looked at what appeared to be himself. Examining the scar more closely, he asked, “How did I get this one? At Hogwarts?”

Draco snorted, “I wish.” Harry whipped around, despite the mirror, Draco rolled his eyes. “It was probably the biggest fight we ever had.”

“Wait …” Harry wrinkled his forehead, “You gave me this?”

“WHAT? No!!!” Draco exclaimed and scoffed. “Let me rephrase: This caused the probably biggest fight we ever had. And I am still mad at you when I think about it, just so you know.” After Harry had raised his eyebrows in question, the blonde elaborated, with a sigh, mind him: “Delia was about a year and a half. And you and Carlyle had been out all afternoon, tempering about with our hippogriff. At dinner, you excitedly talked about what you had done with him and how great he was and how much fun it had been. Well, and after dinner, Delia strut out, right into the box of the hippogriff and that thing attacked her.”

Harry’s eyes got round as plates. He had witnessed first-hand what it was like if you did not approach a hippogriff with the utmost caution – ironically, with Malfoy. Still, Harry could see that it had been at least partly his fault, so he apologized … again, supposedly. “But it is not the hippogriff … Feodor? … we have now, right?” Somehow he doubted that Draco would keep the thing that harmed their daughter in this house. And he probably wouldn’t either.

“No, it was a different one. That one from back then is in a colony in the north … He had a few issues because he had been treated rather badly before … which was why I thought it irresponsible to bring it here in the first place …” The blonde fixed him with a stare.

Harry, still shocked that he had let that happen to their daughter, however it had happened, remembered his scar. “And how did I …?” He pointed right into his face.

“Oh, yes …” Draco nodded, “You realized that Delia was gone, thankfully found her in time and threw yourself right between her and the hippogriff.” Harry grimaced. That surely hadn’t been pleasant. “So I didn’t have to worry solely about her but about you as well, you daft idiot.” Draco said but took a step closer to Harry, “It seems that it is an unfortunate habit of you to collect scars on your face …”

Harry grinned, “Oh I don’t know … Seems like it makes me ruggedly handsome, don’t you think?”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Leave the handsome out of the sentence, then you’re on.”

The Gryffindor laughed and the blonde smiled at him as well. Harry decided to take a step towards what he assumed was their normal routine, “Even though I have already apologized, I want to emphasize that one could say our daughter clearly comes after you …” Harry grinned up at his husband.

Draco scoffed, “Don’t you start on that! It wasn’t funny then and it certainly isn’t funny now …”

“Well”, Harry continued, “The apple does not fall far from the tree, they say.”

Draco threw his hand up in the air, “Now he starts with the Muggle sayings. Really Potter, you are testing my patience.”

“No roleplay with children in the house – you said so”, Harry smirked.

“Wiseass”, Draco whispered and Harry laughed. Out of an impulse more than conscious thought, Harry took another step towards the blonde and hugged him closely to his chest. It was awkward to notice how at first Draco seemed to immediately relax into the embrace, then shy away from it – probably remembering that Harry had lost sixteen years, but then giving back in and hugging back Harry tightly.

“I am sorry”, Harry whispered again and he simply felt Draco nod, “I know.”

As they stayed like they were, Harry realized that Draco smelled wonderfully. Like apple and lemon and … was that leather? Just as the Gryffindor started to think that this wasn’t even half-bad, to his huge surprise, somewhere in their house a timer went off. Immediately Draco jumped back, “The cake!” he exclaimed and scampered off into the kitchen. “The cake?” Harry asked and followed his husband. If Draco told him now that it was somebody’s birthday, he would lose it.

Just as he reached the kitchen that was cleverly connected to their spacious living room, Harry saw Draco pulling a marvellous cake out of the fridge. Carefully, he put the monster down on their kitchen counter and tested the frosting. As the blonde nodded, Harry thought that it was to his liking. “What …” Harry started and looked down on the white cake that had golden and silver ornaments on top in awe, “… is that?! Please don’t tell me it’s somebody’s birthday …”

Draco chuckled, “I could have said that it was mine, right? You would feel really bad and try everything to make it up to me, you lovely little Gryffindor.” He looked at Harry cheekily, who simply raised his eyebrows. After a few moments of silence, Draco shook his head, still smiling. Then, however, he groaned.

“What?!” Harry wanted to know.

“Uhm …” the blonde started and Harry feared for his sanity. The last time the blonde had stuttered had been when he has told Harry they had biological kids together, “… don’t faint, okay? But my parents are coming over for tea …”

Harry’s jaw dropped. He and Lucius Malfoy sitting at a table, drinking tea and eating cake?! No way in hell …

The Slytherin raised his hands as if in surrender, “I know, it’s much. But! … You like each other …?!” The blonde grinned faux-confidently. Harry only exhaled in desperation. “I … ungh!” he replied eloquently.

“I know. I know, Harry.” Draco said and walked over to him, “But they have changed. You only knew them how they were in public and that was never … My Mum has helped you in the Forbidden Forrest and … Argh! This is too much!!!”

Harry could safely say that he had never seen Draco lose his temper and let his emotions go as freely as he did just now. The blonde slumped onto the stuffed chair that stood in closest proximity to the kitchen, his head in his hands. _And was he … sobbing?_   Harry thought flabbergasted. “I can’t ...”, the Slytherin whispered, “I can’t do this again …” Harry, immediately getting – for once – that this was directed toward him, hurried over to the chair his hand taking Draco’s as if on autopilot. Harry was sure that it wasn’t a conscious decision either.

“I’m sorry … I’m sorry Draco”, Harry said, not sure what else he could contribute to the conversation. The blonde only shook his head. After what felt like an eternity to Harry, the Slytherin raised his head so that he could look at Harry, “It’s not your fault …”

Harry grinned, “I think I am going to put that into my dairy …”

The blonde attempted as small grin before he sighed, “Maybe I should floo them and call the tea off …” Harry opened his mouth, wanting to tell Draco that it wasn’t necessary – mostly because he felt really sorry for the sniffling blonde who had made the artwork of a cake that currently still sat on the counter – but found it unnecessary to do so. With a swoosh of green flames, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stepped out of their chimney.

While Draco quickly wiped his tears away, Harry opened his mouth to say something – anything really, but Lucius Malfoy was quicker. With having only taken one look at his son huddled in the stuffed chair and Harry kneeling next to him, he only raised an elegant eyebrow, “Is this a bad time?”

Narcissa Malfoy immediately took a step towards them, looking more than concerned. Harry however stood up, wiping his hands insecurely on his own jeans and taking a step back from the chair. On second thoughts, this was truly ridiculous as the Malfoys surely knew that they were married, for Merlin’s sake.

“Mr and Mrs Malfoy …” Harry started but couldn’t really think of anything to say afterwards. It was all too much, it simply was too much.

Lucius Malfoy, taking a step out of the chimney himself, chuckled, “Formal, aren’t we Harry … oh, Mr Potter-Malfoy of course …” Harry’s jaw dropped. Had Lucius Malfoy, the former Death Eater, just teased him?

Narcissa Malfoy, however, seemed to be a bit more alert than her husband. She immediately turned her gaze from her son who sat still sniffling on the chair on Harry’s right to the Gryffindor. “Harry darling, is everything alright?” she asked with a confused wrinkling of her forehead.

“Uhm …” Harry started, again not knowing how to progress from there. Thankfully, it was just then that Draco seemed to regain his ability to speak again. “It happened again …”

“Oh dear …” Narcissa Malfoy was immediately in their faces – figuratively of course – first hugging Harry, then crouching down next to her son, stroking his back and murmuring encouragements into his ear. Lucius sighed, “Careful Cissa, we have to make sure first that Harry knows we don’t want to kidnap him and hand him over to the Dark Lord.”

Then, he walked over to the more than confused Gryffindor – _Had that man just made a joke again?!_ – and offered his hand. “You will probably don’t believe me at this very moment, but we are actually quite good friends, Harry – or so I liked to think anyway. But let’s start small, shall we? To new beginnings?” The Gryffindor, feeling rather numb himself, only nodded and took the offered hand. What in the name of Merlin’s beard was he to do anyway?

The older Malfoy, his _father-in-law_ , smiled – _smiled_ – and nodded approvingly. Just then, Harry could hear feet trampling down some stairs and not three seconds later, their daughter scampered through the door to the living room. “Grandpa Luc!” she squealed and threw herself against the older man’s legs. Apparently, she seemed to do that a lot. Harry thought it wise to remember this for future occasions.

The wizard in front of him immediately bowed down to the girl at his feet and hoisted her up onto his hip, “Hello little pumpkin”, he chuckled and Harry could simply not believe his eyes. Maybe he was hallucinating after all and would wake up in the hospital wing any second.

Suddenly Delia looked down onto Draco, who still sat in the chair and albeit looking a bit better just then, the girl immediately noticed that something was wrong. “Papa, what’s the matter?” she asked worriedly. The blonde only shook his head, “Nothing sweetheart. Everything’s fine …”

The girl frowned. “Hello Grandma …” she said a lot less enthusiastic than she had greeted her grandfather. Narcissa Malfoy smiled up at her. Then, the girl turned toward Lucius again, “Why is Papa sad? No one ever tells me anything … It’s very unfair. And rude”, the girl complained and Lucius Malfoy snorted. “Rather rude, I would say. Well, it seems that you dear Daddy has lost his memory again … And your Papa is understandably distraught.”

And really, why was it that everybody seemed to immediately know what had happened to him? Harry thought it unnerving, to say the least.

Delia, however, grinned as brightly as anyone could. “Yes. They have told me! I think it’s great!” the girl exclaimed.

Lucius Malfoy crooked his head, “I would not call it that, if I’m being completely honest darling.”

Delia wrinkled her nose, “But last time!” she started, “Last time Carlyle told me how funny it had been and I couldn’t remember because I was too small. And it is not fair! And now I know before he did and finally I can tell him something he doesn’t know …” She nodded determined. Harry couldn’t help but grin himself, even though he knew it was out of place.

“Well, that certainly is true, but you just said you didn’t remember a single thing from the first time, correct?” Lucius asked and their girl nodded, “See, it’s just how your Daddy feels right now. He can’t remember anything from … _before_. So it really isn’t that much fun for him as it is for you …”

The Gryffindor was taken aback. He had thought the parenting skills of Lucius Malfoy to be way worse than this. Non-present, if he was completely honest with himself.

Dandelion nodded, apparently deep in thought. “That’s true”, she finally said. “But there is cake. One can never be too sad if there is cake!” Everybody in the living room started to chuckle and even Draco smiled up at their daughter. “Really!” she insisted, “Papa has made it and it looks really pretty!”

Lucius, after taking a long glance at his son, probably determining if he was feeling better, looked back at the girl still on his hip, “Is that right? I think I’ll have to take a closer look myself.” And with that, they ventured towards their kitchen counter where Delia explained what she thought to be the most beautiful asset of the cake (“The frosting! Because it is so white it almost _gleams_ Grandpa!”).

It was only then that Harry had a closer look at the two elder Malfoys:  
Lucius Malfoy had recovered somewhat from his time at Azkaban. Even though his hair had now fully taken on a silver shade and was a bit shorter, his face looked rather healthy; not quite as thin as back then, his eyes had lost all the red that had been there and his skin-tone was also not matching his hair anymore. And the shaking seemed to have stopped as well. Narcissa Malfoy’s hair had also gotten whiter, but there were still a few dark strands there. She still wore dark-red lipstick and she too looked much healthier than when Harry had last seen her. And she got up, placing a kiss on her son’s cheek before doing so and then went over to Harry and squeezed his shoulder fondly. After that, she went into the kitchen and started to prepare some tea.

Harry insecurely looked over to Draco, who finally got up from the chair and walked over to him. “I’m sorry”, Harry whispered but the blonde only shook his head. “I am. It’s not your fault … well, not entirely at least.” The perfect lips in front of him curled and Harry smirked. “Twice a day! Now this really goes into my diary!” Draco rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen himself, placing a kiss on Delia’s head as he passed her.

 

 

In the end, the five of them had eaten so much of the, Harry had to admit, much too delicious cake that they skipped dinner – even though Draco protested. “It’s too unhealthy”, he argued. Lucius coughed a “Hypocrite” into his cup of tea which earned the older Malfoy a raise of a delicate eyebrow, “Helpful as ever father”, Draco snarled whilst Narcissa informed Harry that Draco had often refused to eat his dinner because he had had too much cake in the afternoon. She however told Harry quietly, so Delia didn’t overhear anything. The Gryffindor chuckled, wondering how on earth the blonde had stayed so thin.

As Harry’s parents-in-law departed, Draco flooed Ron and Hermione and asked them if Carlyle could stay over – stating Harry’s current state rather briefly. Hermione, of course, demanded to speak to Harry immediately who found some comfort in the fact that even though his childhood-friend had matured as well, she still didn’t let any chance to reprimand him go by. Ron, whom he also had a few quick words with, only told him to “Hang in there, mate!” – so nothing had changed there either. Harry, taking his chances while Draco went with Delia to the bathroom to get her ready for bed, couldn’t help himself. He simply had to ask: “Am I really married to Malfoy?”

Hermione simply frowned as if she wanted to say, “Really Harry …” but Ron only snorted, “Believe me, we were shocked as well …”

A predictable slap on his head carried out be Hermione followed. “Ronald! The Malfoys, all of them, have changed … You should know this Harry.”

The Gryffindor rolled his eyes, “You tell me. Today I had tea with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and Malfoy Senior bounced out daughter continuously on his knee …”

Hermione smiled, “There you have it. Maybe you would like to know that he is working on a project with me in the Ministry …”

“Stop right there …”, Harry interfered, “I’ve had enough surprises for one day!”

He bid them goodbye, not without promising to floo the next day again, and went upstairs, realizing that he had actually not been upstairs. At least not the he could remember.

The voices coming out of a room lit in warm yellow however told him what he needed to know. Quietly, he approached the room situated in the tower he had seen earlier from outside and leaned against the doorframe. Hs he did not want to disturb the tale Draco was telling their daughter, who already lay tucked into her bed. Harry had to smile: The room was held in a warm yellow, animals painted onto the walls which moved on occasion – much like their portraits in Hogwarts, enchanted flowers floating above Delia’s head. And there sat one Draco Malfoy, the former Ice Prince of Slytherin and told the girl a tale about a magical car that only appeared on full moons on the grounds of Hogwarts. Harry did a double take … Was he talking about the Ford Anglia that Ron and him had ridden to Hogwarts in their second year? It still had to be somewhere in the Forbidden Forrest, Harry realized only then.

“And when Daddy finds it, we are gonna take a ride in it, aren’t we?” Delia beamed up at her father.

Draco snorted, “Yes, if he finds it … and that’s a big if. He’s been trying for years …” Just as Harry realized that the blonde had obviously noticed him standing there as he was mocking him not-so-subtly, Delia piped up: “I’m sure Daddy finds it. He’s gonna train his magical creatures to find the Ford Anglia.”

Harry had to laugh, “That is actually a splendid idea, Delia.”

Predictably, Draco threw a mocking glance at him that seemed to scream, “Don’t you dare!”

“Good night, sweetheart”, Harry said as he approached the bed and placed a kiss on his – their – girl’s head. “Night Daddy! … And I’m sorry that you can’t remember anything.”

Harry smiled sadly down at the blonde girl, “Me too, honey.” Taking a side glance at Draco, the Gryffindor hoped that his husband would get that this statement wasn’t only directed towards their daughter. Draco too placed a kiss on their girl’s cheek and bid her a good night as well before they both left the room, only leaving a night light on, and left the door slightly ajar.

The blonde squeezed Harry’s hand and moved his head towards a room on the other side of the corridor, “Why don’t you get ready for bed as well? I’ll be up shortly.”

Harry nodded and opened his mouth, but Draco was quicker, “We have our own bathroom.” The Gryffindor nodded and did as he was told.

 

Once standing in front of the mirror above the basin in their bathroom, Harry stood once again in awe in front of it, staring at his reflection. His face still didn’t look too different from when he had been … well, seventeen like earlier that day, except for the scar whose origin had been determined already. Still, the shoulder-long hair made him look quite differently – as did the stubble on his cheeks. Taking his sweater off, he realized that he had put on quite some weight – muscles as well as a small belly (he thought about the amounts of cake he had just eaten) – which probably made sense as he was working day in and day out with rather strong creatures. That thought made Harry shake his head. Care for Magical Creatures, who would have thought? He could see himself doing it, however. So apparently the doubts about a prestigious career as an auror or in the ministry had solidified. And honestly, when he thought about it, being in the fresh air all day long instead of carrying out whatever other people ordered him to do sounded pretty brilliant to him.

As he finished up in the bathroom and got into their bedroom – Harry eyed the cream-coloured king-sized bed warily – he wandered over to the window and looked out onto the twilight. They seemed to have quite a number of stables and paddocks which he supposed made sense given his career choice. That made him think about Draco, his husband: Was he working from here? The house certainly was big enough to feature a workshop, more than one actually. He took another look onto the ring on his right hand and an involuntary grin spread on his face. As cheesy as he had labelled it before, as brilliant it was once he thought about it. He smiled as we watched the snake pocking the lion into his visible ear and the lion glaring at it before his tongue flicked out and enthusiastically licked over the snakes’ head. It probably was how he and Draco behaved all the time – teasing and bickering good-naturedly.

That however triggered another train of thought: When on earth had he realized that like liked boys … like _that_? True, he had always admired other boys like Oliver Wood for his Quidditch skills or Cedric for his bravery. And of course there had been Henry, one of their neighbours, who was about the only person, apart from Mrs Figg, who had been decent to him while he had stayed at Privet Drive. But did he have a crush on them? It was hard to say …

Draco surely had always looked good – even though he had been a Slytherin Harry had to admit that much. But there had always been this rivalry between them, Malfoy had constantly insulted his friends and then there had of course been the whole Voldemort-Death Eater-Attempting to kill Dumbledore-business. So no wonder Harry had never _considered_ Draco like that. But he supposed that given they had the chance to clear all their differences – which they obviously had – he supposed he could do way worse than Malfoy. Harry just wondered if his husband still was friends with Zabini, Parkinson and Goyle. And if, by extension, that meant that he himself was friends with them? Harry shuddered a little at the prospect …

“Oh come on Potter, the Boy who Lived won’t shy back from sleeping in a double bed with a Slytherin, will he?”

Harry spun around and found himself face to face with his husband, who had exchanged his jeans for some comfortable sweatpants. The Gryffindor smiled at him. “On the other hand …” the blonde continued, “What are your fans going to think?”

“Do I still have them?” Harry asked a bit alarmed. He really could live without people following him about. Maybe that was the reason why there wasn’t another house visible for miles.

The blonde shrugged while he came closer, “Some. But once you were completely out of the spotlight, their great numbers have diminished …”

The Gryffindor exhaled, “Thank Merlin.”

Now Draco stood right in front of him, looking at him intently. “Are you okay?”

Eloquently as ever, Harry shrugged, “As well as I can be, I suppose. Still, it’s all a bit much …”

The blonde nodded, “I can imagine.” Then, after taking a few moments to think, Draco offered, “You know, we can have separate bedrooms for a while, if it would be easier …”

“Is that what we did last time?” Harry asked and his husband nodded. “Yeah. Although … I was quite happy with it.” At Harry’s frown, he chuckled, “You hated me so much back then I was afraid you would kill me in my sleep.”

Harry grinned as well, “Only if you snored.”

Draco snorted, “You’re one to talk …”

Smiling at each other and seeing nothing but love (awkwardly enough) in the blonde’s eyes, Harry decided to do something very Gryffindor and be brave: “I don’t think separate bedrooms will be necessary.” Draco smiled and nodded. Harry continued, “Actually, I wanted to try something …” And with that he leaned in and placed his lips on Draco’s. Albeit he himself realized that his attempt at a kiss was more than clumsy, he felt the other man smile into the really chaste kiss. Despite it being chaste, Harry liked it. It wasn’t wet as his kiss with Cho or hurried and awkward like the one’s he had shared with Ginny. Also, Draco’s lips were really soft and inviting. He really liked it.

Once they pulled apart, there was the most beautiful smile on Draco’s lips and Harry felt unable to resist from smiling back equally brilliantly. After a few moments of them staring dopily into the eyes of the other one – and really, if Harry said so himself, it really had to be for quite a substantial amount of time – Draco raised an eyebrow. “I think we can do better than that Potter …” And with that he pulled Harry close by his hips and kissed him once again, but this time way more forcefully. Harry liked that as well, as he came to realize. More than liked it, actually. The way Draco parted his own lips with a gentle lick and both of their tongues met made Harry’s heart race. And suddenly, despite having his eyes closed, the Gryffindor saw a flash of bright lights, sweaty bodies and a dancefloor.

Breaking apart again, Harry placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder, whilst looking down intently at a delicate collar bone and biting his lips. “Draco, please don’t hex me for merely asking that but …”

“Oh dear”, the blonde groaned, “What is he going to say now?!”

“Did we …” Harry started insecurely, “Did we meet at a Muggle Gay Club?”

Draco rolled his eyes, “No Harry, we met when we were eleven.”

The dark-haired wizard slapped Draco on the shoulder, who in turn chuckled. “I meant _meet_ meet, you know?”

“You eloquence is breath-taking as usual”, Draco mocked but a grin appeared on his face, “Do you really remember?”

Harry nodded, “But only like flashes … What happened?!”

Draco nodded, biting his own lip. “After the trials that followed the war, I wasn’t allowed to use magic for two years. I mean, outside of Hogwarts. I had to make a living somehow …”

“Wait …” Harry started once he had processed what he had just heard, “Are you meaning to tell me that you willingly worked at a Gay Club in Muggle London?! As what, a barkeeper?”

Draco crooked his head, “What can I say, it is the one job where you get a lot of tips … Obviously, considering my splendid and by then youthful looks …”

Even though Draco used a rather joking tone, there was a lot of bitterness behind it. He couldn’t imagine what it meant to not be allowed to use magic, make a living in a world you didn’t know … Surely, it had been a troubling time for Draco. Still, he wanted to aim at a light-hearted tone: “Ah, you don’t look so bad now …”

Now it was Draco who pinched his side, which made Harry giggle. “Sometimes I really do wonder why I let you dance with me after my shift, you know …”

Harry paused as an image of him and Draco, grinding against each other, Draco’s hand sneaking shyly around his waist …

As if he knew what Harry was thinking about, he elaborated, “It was the first time you came to that club, as you have told me. Although not the first time you had been at a gay one. Once you had broken up with Ginevra in our eighth year, you started to question your sexuality, but obviously, I didn’t know then. Imagine my surprise when suddenly the Golden Boy of the Wizarding World stood at my bar with a wicked smile that made up for the truly horrendous outfit, ordering a gin and tonic.”

Harry didn’t remember that. But maybe it would come in time; Harry remained hopeful. “As you have pointed out my truly horrendous outfit, I am surprised you decided to dance with _me_. Surely there were more suitable candidates drooling all over the counter”, he teased.

Draco bit his lip, “I never did this, you know?” At Harry’s raised eyebrows, the blonde elaborated, “Dancing with my customers.”

Harry smiled brightly, especially since more and more memories of their … heated dancing flashed across his mind. Draco throwing his head back, sweat glistening on his long and elegant neck in the flashing lights while their middles were joined, Harry letting his hand play with the hem of Draco’s white shirt on his back and the blonde placing it firmly underneath it, Draco arching into his touch and groaning into his ear …

 _A distraction_ , Harry though desperately as he was staring to get rather … excited. _I need a distraction_. Once again, he aimed for familiar territory: teasing. “So you are telling me that once again, I was the Chosen One?”

Harry admitted that it was a bad one, but it had Draco burst out into wholehearted laughter before he shook his head, “Un. Be. Lieveable!” Harry chuckled as well while Draco continued, “You are terrible and you relish in it. I can’t even …”

“You still love me …” Harry said more out of impulse than conscious thought.

The blonde pursed his lips, “That I do … you and your humbleness.”

Now Harry smirked, “Apparently, I’ve learned from the best …”

 

**Author's Note:**

> And here it is, my first (posted) work in the Harry Potter fandom - which really is long overdue.  
> I hope you enjoyed it ... and if you'd leave a comment you really would make my day!  
> Thanks for reading! <3


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